


Carol vs. Alien

by galleyscoast



Category: Alien Series, Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, carol au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galleyscoast/pseuds/galleyscoast
Summary: In space, no one can hear you longing.The scuttleship Sabot has a modest crew, and a few secrets...what will be revealed when those spacefarers are pushed to extremes?





	Carol vs. Alien

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [There is Always a Cost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203209) by [calliesghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliesghost/pseuds/calliesghost). 



Carol vs. Alien

_Author's Note on Continuity: The following story takes place between the events of "Carol" and the events of "Alien"._

 

Prologue: The Price of Blood

 _“I was scared of dentists and the dark. I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations.”_ \- Vance Joy, _Riptide_

    Far too often, things go unsaid. The crew of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation scuttleship _Sabot_ felt pings of suspicion, every one of them, when the order came through: They were to drop into a seven week cryo-slumber and reach the derelict _Sanatarius,_ which was in a geosynchronous orbit above Colony M1715 on a distant moon of a distant planet in a distant solar system. But the _Sanatarius_ was already in a dead orbit.. Each of the crew, for their own reasons, kept quiet though things didn't make sense. They marched in line. They obeyed. They complained to each other, but not to those giving the orders. This was their collective mistake. This is why things went so wrong. Things went unsaid.

     _Sabot_ boasted a modest crew. Its missions were typically only one of two flavors: either board an unwanted ship, initiate a self-destruct code and get the hell out of the blast radius or, using the _Sabot_ 's specialized, proboscis-like, mechanized rigging, nudge a ship into a dead orbit, allowing a celestial body's gravity to pull the doomed vessel into a meteoric plummet (sometimes to burn up during descent, sometimes to crash onto the surface of whatever star, moon, asteroid, or planet was unfortunate enough to be nearby). The rigging, nicknamed “Jabberwocky,” was delicate and the _Sabot_ had six Repair Pods in the Docking Bay to accommodate for its frequent breakdowns. If there was one thing the crew hated more than cryosleep, it was having to repair Jaberwocky after every other use.  The _Sanatarius_ was just seven weeks away from a gentle shove into oblivion. The crew of the _Sabot_ was already dreading week eight, which had a coin flip’s chance of being spent in claustrophobic Repair Pods.

     Second Officer Carol Lynn Aird weighed the entire situation. She reminded herself to unfurrow her brow as she didn’t want to seem frustrated with the inanity of it: _Sanatarius_ was already doomed. All the upper brass had to do was wait a few months, and the same result would be had because the moon’s gravity below was pulling it into catastrophe. She folded her arms as she reread the mission briefing. The lack of background detail was egregious, and hence the mission: vague. Either there was something ominous afoot, or the corporation started cutting pay to the scribes tasked with mission briefings. Carol hoped for scribes with bad pay, but seven weeks and three days later, when the _Sabot_ crew awoke from their sleep, hope would be lost.

 

1: An Awakening

 _“And now you do what they told ya.”_ \- Rage Against the Machine, _Killing in the Name Of_

     Cryosleep is a gamble. You essentially have a 33% shot of having a persistent, surrealist, nightmare rich with themes of paralysis and the arctic, a 33% chance of revisiting the most tranquil moments of your life, or a 33% chance of having a multi-week, erotic fantasy of such depravity that text-books on the matter refer to it as “Sodom's Slumber.” The remaining 1% is unaccounted for, but I’ve heard it’s just a boring day in the sleeper’s regular existence, but the sleeper’s hands are huge- nobody comments on the size, but the dreamer can tell that people notice making for an awkward day. Anyhow, it’s not my place to speak of what Second Officer Aird dreamed of, but after she awoke, stretched, and warmed herself, her eyes searched young Science Officer Therese Belivet’s face. There was no judgement in Therese’s sweet return gaze; just the doe-eyed glances and self-doubting ticks that had ensnared Carol from the start of _Sabot_ ’s current tour of duty, nearly a year ago.  The Science Officer appeared to want to say something to Second Officer Aird, but Therese bit her lip, half-shrugged, and began to make her way to the briefing room. Carol felt herself beginning to grin, and stifled it. Out of the corner of her vision, Aird caught Therese look back, in something Aird hoped could be longing.

     “Thank you, Jesus!” shouted Rich, the ship’s medic, emerging from his cryobed. He started clapping and whooping, more to illicit laughs from the crew than to brag, Carol knew. She saw him approach the ship’s captain, Jeremy Augustus Harge, who was visibly shaken from what must have been a seven-week frozen hellscape. Rich walked next to him, then leaned over and whispered something in his ear, pantomiming thrusting, swiveling, and then getting stuck in his non-existent partner. Rich stopped whispering, focused his attention on some invisible point in front of him, gave a grimace, then leaned over to Harge again and delivered some kind of transcendent punchline while throwing up his arms. Despite his certain, recent terror, Harge let out a primal laugh - the kind that fills every atom of a person, the wiped away a few tears. Harge clapped him on the back and shook him a bit. Rich again whispered something only Harge could hear. Harge smiled, and nodded. Carol saw Harge mouth the word, “Thanks.” The two started chatting while making their way to the briefing room.

     The crew’s engineer, Abby Desmond, worked out a kink in her upper back as she approached Carol. “Sweet dreams?” Abby asked.

     “Just glad to be awake, cadet. You?” Carol said. Though Abby was an officer, she and Carol had come up through the company’s ranks together and Carol loved to tease Abby about their disparate commanding positions. There was no malice in this- only love. Abby knew this, and would respond in kind.

     “I’m great, but just a little worried about somebody your age spending six weeks in one of those pods, “ said Abby, drawing attention to the fact that Carol was two years older than her. Carol smirked, and didn’t try to conceal it.

     “What’d you dream of?” asked Carol.

     Abby hesitated for a moment, breaking eye contact, then met Carol’s gaze. Abby shook her head and said, “Kansas.” They shared a warm smile, and a pause as each thought back to a time of discovery, long ago. Abby broke the silence, resolute, “Lead the way, boss.” They joined the others.

     A holographic map illuminated the center table of the briefing room. On the map, vector graphic renderings of the moon, colony M157, _Santarius,_ and _Sabot_ could be seen in three dimensions. Captain Harge went over the details of the mission: Engineer Abby Desmond would coordinate the disintegration of hospital ship _Sanatarius_ into the moon’s atmosphere. The helium-mining colony below had been evacuated around the same time that _Sabot_ ’s crew entered cryosleep. Of note, only one evacuation pod was listed as having evacuated the “remaining” colonists. Why use this descriptor? No explanation was given. Carol looked to Therese to find her indulging in an eyeful of Carol’s flat stomach, accented by her tight fitting, regulation tank top. Therese blushed when she noticed she’d been caught.

     “It’s a classic ‘push and pull.’ We’ll be on our way back to central space in a day as long as Jaberwocky doesn’t give us too much trouble,” said Harge as he reached the end of the briefing. The crew was accustomed to his cadence. They knew that the next thing out of Harge’s mouth was a request for questions and concerns. But this never came.

     The shrieking song of a haling alert came through the ship’s communication system. It was two notes, in descending order, repeated once followed by five notes of an ascending scale, also repeated once. Every crew member who ever served any amount of time on board a starship came up with their own lyrics to it.

     Rich sand along, “‘Scuse me, ‘Scuse me. Hey-I-want-to-talk. Hey-I-want-to-talk.”

     Therese overtook the melody, but with a questioning tenor, “Pick-up, pick-up. Please-list-en-to-me? Please-list-en-to-me?”

     Carol moved over to the com system and pressed a few buttons. Static roared over the speakers. “This is Second Officer Carol Aird of the Weylund-Yutani scuttler-class ship _Sabot_. Is someone there?” She was only answered with more static.

     Abby proffered, “It must be a ghost transmission. Right?”

     Rich picked up Abby’s train of thought, “Sure- An automated response to approaching vessels with a standard warning that they’re a hospital ship and there may be infectious agents on board. Something like that.”

     The static was broken, but only with a few punctuations of intelligible words.

     “Madison…..we read you, _Sabot_ ….colony…..We need an evac!....God, help us, please…-fficer Avery Mad-….”

     “Or not,” said Therese.

     Carol half looked over her shoulder at the _Sabot_ ’s crew, then back in front of her. She closed her eyes, focusing. “This is Carol Aird of the _Sabot_ , can you hear me?” For a short moment that felt like a long time, there was, again, only static.

     “Yes! Thank, God, yes! This is…..son…...polypedal....help….”

     The static was cut out and replaced by the rapid sound of five digital bass pulses, indicating a failure of the communication hardware.

     Harge pointed toward Abby without taking his eyes off of star map. “We take damage to our COMM system in transit?”

     Abby, already typing on a keypad in front of a console offered, “Already on it…it’ll be a minute, but everything’s looking good. No errors were reported coming out of hibernation. Chances are it’s on their end.” Harge scratched his forehead, and opened his mouth, but no words came forth. Carol filled the silence.

     “We have to abort the mission. There are people on that ship.”

     Therese, a moment ago lost in the transmission’s chaos, found herself at once centered in Carol’s clear decision.

     Harge kept scratching his forehead. Rich walked over and smacked his hand.

     “I don’t need an infected gash on your head.  And you know we’re not killing anyone,” said Rich. Harge

looked to Rich, then Carol, then the rest of the crew, one-by-one, eventually, settling on Abby.

     “Can you get us close enough to board?” Harge asked.

     “We can be on the _Sanatarius_ in an hour, “ Abby said.

     Harge chewed on his top lip and started scratching his forehead again, but this time Rich didn’t stop him. “The boarding party is Rich and me. They might need a medic.”

     “Harge, it might be a hostile situation,” Carol said, thinly referencing her skills in combat compared to anyone

else on the _Sabot_. A few seconds of silence followed.

     “You’re right. You’re right. Rich, you’re with Carol on the boarding party,” Harge said. “But I want you

checking in every five minutes. Everything by the book. Anything seem off, you’re pulling out. Ok? Aright?”

     Carol, at the weapons locker in the briefing room, loaded a pulse rifle. “Well, that’s that. Sold.”

 

2: _Such Great Heights to Fall From_

 _“Hey now, you’re an allstar. Get your game on. Go play.” -_ Neutral Milk Hotel, _Aeroplane Over the Sea_

 

     Carol and Rich marched onto the _Sanatarius_ , their exosuits’ heavy metal boots echoing down the halls of the ship. Carol took point, using the flashlight attached to her pulse rifle to guide her vision: metal grates, empty corridors, open bulkheads. With every room entered, Carol clenched her jaw and the muscles in her neck stiffened. This was new to her. She thought back of her time on an evacuation crew, and this never happened then. She had been dating Harge at the time. He too, had been in the crew and they rescued people from all sorts of disasters that spelled the doom for many capable spacefarers: pirates, terrorists, exotic diseases, and other assorted horrors. Despite this experience, Carol was unprepared. Every room spelled a potential loss. She couldn’t identify what, but it was those full, disarming eyes that she saw with every blink. Therese. Science Officer. Drug.

     It was this constant distraction that lowered Carol’s guard and left her vulnerable to attack. A mottled hand seized her arm. In instinct, she slammed the figure reaching for her into a wall. The figure slumped into a pile and gargled a few words over blood that trickled out between her lips: it was a woman. It was a _sick_ woman. Carol, mouth agape, fingers tingling, inspected the crumpled person resting against the heavy door. A patch on her jumpsuit read “A. Madison.”

     Rich ran to Madison’s side. In trained memory his hand went up to her neck searching for a carotid pulse. Carol kneeled next to Rich, keenly aware of her own pulse pounding in her neck.

     “It’s slow, but it’s there!” Rich shouted, grabbing Madison by the shoulders of her jumpsuit. He dragged her into the middle of the tiled floor. “We need to secure an airway; she’s not breathing.”

     Carol rose to her feet, and took a few steps towards Rich, then moved to call to Harge over her communication device. But her attention turned to Madison’s thigh.

     Rich, focused on Madison’s breathing, didn’t notice that her left thigh seemed to be bulging, as if something was trying to burrow out. Carol shouted words of warning, “Jesus, Rich, stop!” Rich, scrambling through his medic bag, didn’t hear her. Carol repeated the warning, screaming, but Rich still didn’t hear.

     Blood and thick, yellow fluid exploded from Madison’s thigh, tearing a hole in her tissues and jumpsuit. After the liquids spattered, and space dust settled, Rich and Carol came face to face with a tiny, fleshy sac. It stood at only half of a foot tall and appeared to made of Madison’s own muscle, but contorted. It twitched once, twice. Carol looked to Rich, whose gaze was deadfast on the malformed muscle, his hands in a flurry to clean blood off his protective visor, his chest heaving to draw breath. The muscular abomination, too, erupted with a bang akin to a pistol firing in close quarters. A mixture of fluids filled the small compartment an inch deep, contained by the submarine-like door frames. Carol flinched, slipped on the quickly gelling blood, and fell onto her back. She let out a grunt and scowled before trying to get back onto her feet, but she couldn’t find purchase on the slick floor and she face planted, half shattering her visor.  Rich felt a wave of terror roll through his bowels as a pale snake-like entity slithered several inches out of the torn sack in Madison’s thigh then lunged at his face. He swatted at it and clenched at its body, but the yellow slime pumping out of the creature’s pores made finding a grip impossible. He shouted for Carol, but she was looking away, trying to discover something to steady herself on, to get back up. The tiny beast chewed a hole through Rich’s transparent visor. Carol slid over to the far wall and used it to right herself. She saw Rich convulsing and clawing at his throat as the grotesque animal worked its way into his right mainstem bronchus. She radioed to Harge, ignorant of the thing inside her colleague.

     “Rich is seizing! We found Madison- she exploded a bit. She partially exploded, and now Rich is seizing!” Carol spat into her communicator.

     “Get back here!” commanded Harge.

     “I can’t move him alone!”

     There was a sound of rustling, then Harge’s voice again sounded, “Ok. Therese is on her

way.” It made sense. Therese was the closest thing they had to a medic, at this point.

     Rich continued to convulse. He gritted his teeth to the point of spilling blood from his

gums. Then he stopped, limp and unconscious.

     Therese used the homing beacons on Carol and Rich’s gear to find them. Less than a minute had passed. Carol was able to raise Rich into a half-sitting position. By the time Therese arrived, Rich was trying to reassure Carol that he was alright and just short of breath. He asked what had happened. Carol shook her head, unsure of how to answer.

     As Therese and Carol helped Rich limp back to the _Sabot_ , barely conscious, Carol again looked into Therese’s deep, dark eyes.

     “What was it? What happened?” asked Therese.

     “You don’t want to know,” said Carol.

     “I wanna know,” said Therese.

     “Things.”

     “Then tell me. 'Things.' Now.”

     Carol did.

 

3: We’re Almost at the Fucking Alien

 _“Some will die in hot pursuit, in fiery auto crashes. Some will die in hot pursuit, while sifting through my ashes.”_ \- Flying Butthole Surfers, _Pepper_

     If you’re reading this, I take it that you’ve already seen an “Alien” movie. You know what happens next. Rich has a brief reprieve. Harge and Abby, with a bit of guilt that they didn’t live the trauma first hand, give side-hugs to everybody and commend them while trying to offer support. Sooner or later though, the big fat payoff that you came here for happens: poor Rich, as much a victim of the situation as anybody else, starts aspirating on some space food mid-laugh and wigs out. He coughs up some blood, and a chubby insect-lizard jumps out of his chestal region and scurries God knows where. Frankly, it’s never been done better than it was in the first movie (although the dude shaking in the med bay in _Alien:Covenant_ came pretty close). Anyhow. Rich dies, perhaps mercifully given what everybody else is about to endure. There you go: the alien’s on board.

     It should be noted that in all the commotion, Carol hadn’t noticed that Therese patched into the _Sanatarius’_ video feed and the _Sabot_ ’s crew was able to determine that there are no survivors left on that floating hospital ship. They haven’t gone ahead with their mission, though--still curious as to whether or not any answers are there.

     During the scene I spared you from, that is to say Rich meeting a gruesome death, he had grabbed at Carol’s arm, spraining her wrist. Now,  I really wanted him to grab at her ankle because I love the ankle drag trope: and hey, you can see it in _Alien: Covenant_ ! But my favorite example of all time is in when the paleo-botanist is running from the raptors in _Jurassic Park_. It’s kind of a shame that he didn’t grab her ankle.

     So yeah, in summation, Rich dead, alien on ship, Carol with an injured wrist.

     Moving on.

 

4: _In Carol’s Quarters_

 _“And oh, how they danced..._ ” - Spinal Tap, _Stonehenge_

     Carol stood in front on her quarter’s mirror, staring down at her swollen right wrist. There was a gash across the back of it, and she winced when trying to bandage it. Her dexterity was limited with her left hand. She shook her head, scowling before punching the wall next to the mirror. She would have liked to stew a bit more. Flashes of the recent grotesqueries she witnessed kept striking her. She again shook her head. The door to her quarters chimed, indicating a visitor. Carol trudged over and opened it.

     “Good evening, Officer Aird. As acting Medic, I wanted to check your wrist,” Therese said.

     Carol felt herself half-scowling at Therese. Had she not been on Carol’s mind would the events have played out differently? Would Rich be alive? Had Therese known her own pull on Carol? Her gravity? How could she not?

     Not waiting for a reply, Therese made to push past Carol into the room, but Carol firmly placed her hand against the doorframe, blocking the path. Therese followed Carol’s toned arm to her shoulder, her neck, then her eyes. Therese found herself exhaling slowly through pursed lips. She swallowed. “I can pull you from duty,” Therese said.

     “You wouldn’t,” Carol respoonded. They stared at each other. Therese found her gaze again lowering to Carol’s neck, then shot her look away.

     Therese looked down to Carol’s wrist, swollen and bruised. She looked back up at Carol and lifted a hand toward it. Carol pulled her wrist back.

     “Don’t be a martyr. There’s something on this ship. We need you.” Carol rose her left wrist for inspection. Therese’s delicate fingers met it. “Relax,” said Therese. Only then did Carol realized how tense she had become. With every touch of Therese’s soft fingers, Carol grew in excitement. Something like electricity shot through her. Eventually, it was too much to bare.

     Carol whipped her hand away. “It’s a sprain. I’ve had them before. I’ll meet you and the rest of the crew in the briefing room in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late. ” Carol shut her door. .

     Therese stared at the closed door, lowered her head, then walked to the briefing room.

 

5: In Brief

 

 _“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping left its seeds while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence.”_ \- Disturbed, _The Sound of Silence_ no I didn’t mess up this quote this is a real cover of the Simon and Garfunkel classic by the band Disturbed John Lennon was dead at 40 they stopped making EctoCooler and a groping orange reality TV star is the president

 

     The melancholy had become palpable. Dread hung off the light fixtures. A carnal fear grew in the guts of each of the surviving crew members. The briefing started with a few seconds of footage that the _Sabot_ ’s camera feed captured of the creature. To add further misery, the ship’s automated interface, Mother, was having difficulty analyzing the biology of the alien, making tracking it within the ship impossible.  

     The alien had taken up residence in the supply hold and had grown at a preternatural rate. Its head elongated and spindly limbs bulked up by the time they had found it on the ship’s camera feeds. Using the rations in the supply room for comparison, they estimated the creature to be over seven feet tall. It had dull, metallic skin. It had tendril-like fingers topped with what looked like razor sharp talons. It had no eyes. Jesus, it had no eyes.

     At the end of the clip, the alien exited the supply hold by spitting green acid onto the floor, burning a hole which it scampered through. The last image of the creature, now frozen on the briefing room’s holo-display, was that of a twisting scorpion tale whipping behind the beast as it disappeared into the bowels of the ship. Attempts to track it on other cameras were met with failure. It was anywhere. And, Jesus, it had no eyes.

     Harge checked his autorifle, then looked to Therese, Abby, and finally Carol, each with their own weapons. Carol, only able to use one handed equipment, looked down at her pistol, and uttered an expletive (it was “Fuck.”).

     Scratching his forehead, Harge shared the plan of attack: “We’re going out in teams. This thing’s probably still in the cargo holds: Therese and Abby will drop down through the M ladders and sweep left. Carol and I will go down the B stairwell and sweep right. Radios stay on. You see something, you say something, and you don’t stop shooting until it’s dead. You have a shot: take it.. Any questions? Any concerns?” None came. Harge continued, “Abby: Carol and I aren’t moving in until you give the word- alright?”  

     But Abby didn’t answer. As Harge spoke, she noticed something dripping onto the ground in front of her. Coolant? No, not in this part of the ship. Can’t be a fuel line here either. Maybe hydraulic fluid for the bulkheads. That was the last thing they needed: broken doors. She bent down and dragged a gloved hand through it. Viscous...clear. What the hell was….her eyes widened as she heard a low, steady hiss above her. She went for her pulse rifle, but it was too late.

     Only Harge saw the skeletal arm of the alien grab Abby by the face and pull her into the air duct. Therese and Carol turned, adrenaline flowing, hearing the commotion.

     “It’s in the fucking ceiling!” shouted Therese, readying her weapon.

     “It’s got Abby- don’t shoot!” shouted Carol.

     They stared up. Silence. Then a three shot burst twenty feet away, still above them. Then something between scurrying and metal scraping.

     “Abby!” called Carol.

     Another burst of three shots, followed by a fevered charge of metal scraping.The air ducts bent and groaned above them revealing the exact location of the creature. It was too fast to safely fire at from the ground, but Abby again discharged her weapon, somewhere up there….a few feet from them...completely alone.

     There was a scream from the ceiling. Then, so much blood streamed down onto the briefing room floor. The shredded body of Abby, then slopped back into the briefing room, in three pieces.

     Without fully processing what they just witnessed, Carol, Therese, and Harge began firing into the ceiling. The chaos did more harm than good. The alien’s elongated from dropped into view atop the holodisplay. Harge was nearest. It swatted at him, tearing open his face, then backhanded him in the chest, stealing his breath and sending him flying out of the room. Carol could hear Harge’s ribs crack both as the creature struck him and again when he landed. The thing bore down on him as he scrambled for air and to aim his weapon.

     Therese jumped into the path of the monster and opened fired. It darted to the left while its tail darted right. Carol saw, helpless, as the alien slapped away Harge’s rifle while its tail entered Therese’s stomach, exited her back, and withdrew, spinning her to the ground.

6: Imprisonment

 _“Give me a reason to love you. Give me a reason to be a woman. I just wanna be a woman.”_ -Portishead, _Glory Box_

 _“A mistreated machine/ can start acting mean./ It can crack up all over the place./ Oh, injury!/ What a nasty wound!/ Here, let me see.”_ -Rasputina, _Oh, Injury!_

 

     Therese’s eyes blinked twice, and she looked around. She was propped up in a chair, her weight resting on a cold, steel desk. She wiped a milk-like fluid from her mouth and looked down to see the same fluid pouring out of a large, spasming hole through her torso. She used the desk for support as she pushed herself into a sitting position and scanned the room. Second Officer Carol Aird stood across the room, pistol in hand, eyes focused on her.

     “You don’t--” Therese paused at the sound of her voice, which had developed a faint digital tenor since last she heard it. “You don’t need that.”

     “You’re an android.”

     “Yes.” Therese started shaking as she tried to rise to her feet, and gave up the attempt. Carol lit a cigarette.

     “As acting Medic, I have to advise you stop that.”

     A smile creased Carol’s lips, then faded. Therese’s eyes began functioning better and she realized they were in the ship’s brig: the only room with only one entrance behind a three foot steel door and whose air ducts were only inches wide.

     “Tell me you have the keys,” Therese said.

     This time Carol didn’t smile, but held up the cell’s key.

     “Harge?” asked Therese.

     “Taken by that thing. And there’s more bad news.”

     Therese again tried to stand, and once more started shaking.

     “Sit down.”

     “Why is it humans think you take bad news better if you’re sitting down?”

     Carol raised her eyebrows. “It’s not that. You’re trembling.”

     Therese surveyed herself, but attempted a few steps.She began to collapse, and only was aware of Carol coming to her aide when she was already in her arms. They stood there a moment. Therese nestled her head against Carol who rested her head against Therese.

     “You’re going to fall, Therese.”

     “I don’t need to sit down to know I’m dying.”

     They stood there, wrestling with Therese’s shifting weight. Therese nodded to the cot in the corner. “Take me to bed.”

     Carol did so and sat next to Therese. She looked over the beautiful android, now leaking and shuddering with any movement. Therese took notice.

     “You’ve looked better, too, you know.”

     “I never looked like that,” Carol returned.

     They shared a slight somber smile, then sat in the silence. Carol leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on Therese’s forehead.

     “I think. I’m having a hard time,” Therese said, her voice sounding more electronic. “I’m losing things. Memory, yes, but also my computronic analogging processes in robotic brain sector alpha-3 through phi-15.”

     Carol searched for some sort of words of comfort, but came up short. She drew breath to say something, anything, but Therese pushed herself forward and kissed Carol’s mouth, then collapsed back onto the bed. Carol stroked her hand.

     “Stop that. You can hold it, but I hate that.” Carol stopped, and held Therese’s hand.

     “Things would have been different. Things could have been. If it wasn’t for that thing,” said Carol.

     “What thing?” asked Therese.

     “The demon.”

     “Are we on Earth, Carol?”

     Carol inhaled on her cigarette and wiped her eyes. “No.”

     “Good. I feel lonely in large crowds.”

     “You know how in cryoslumber you either have a sex fantasy, zen experience, or horrifying nightmare? I want you to know I had a nightmare. And when I woke up - and this wasn’t a decision, it wasn’t. It was an instinct- when I woke up, I looked to you. And I felt a little better.” Carol wiped her eyes again. She threw her cigarette down and stomped it out.

     With barely a whisper that only remotely sounded human, Therese philosophized, “Maybe this is the nightmare.”

     Before Carol could respond, the sound of servos grinding to a halt emanated from somewhere deep in Therese. Carol squeezed her hand and began sobbing as Therese’s doe eyes stared off into nothingness then turned bright blue with tiny white lettering detailing the nature of the hardware malfunction. Carol held her.

 

7: Vengeance

 _“Say goodbye to your Nazi balls.”-_ Quinten Terinteeno, _Inglorious Bastards_

     Her wrist throbbing, Carol inspected her pistol. Two shots left. It may as well be zero. Just when things couldn’t get worse, she realized she was out of bullets.

     She only had a semblance of a plan. She’d make a commotion in the docking bay after strapping herslf to something big that doesn’t move. She’d wait for it to show its face, then blow it out the airlock. There was just one thing she had to do first.

     “Mother?” asked Carol.

     The ship’s automated voiced responded, “Yes, Commanding Officer?”

     “Can you tell me where Harge is?”

     “I am only sporadically tracking his biostatistics. I am sorry, but I cannot give you an exact location.” No change from the last several times she asked. But this might’ve meant Harge was alive.

     “Can you tell me where the alien is?” Carol had updated the computer system with some of thick slime that Abby had seen dripping in front of her. Carol hoped it would serve to help track the monster.

     “There is an unidentified species in the _Sabot_ ’s crew lounge.” Success...in a manner of speaking. It was close to the docking bay. But maybe not too close.

     “Let me know if it moves.”

     Carol steadied herself as she opened the brig’s bulkhead. She stepped into the corridor, illuminated by the flashing alarm lights that triggered when the ship recognized casualties. The shrill siren of the alarm system seemed distant. Everything did. She started rushing to the dock.

     “Unidentified species now in Gamma corridor,” Mother said over the _Sabot_ ’s speaker system. Carol began sprinting.

     Crossing the the threshold into the docking bay, Carol shouted, “Mother, close all bulkheads!”

     “Command acknowledge. Unidentified species now in Delta corridor.,” Mother said, as the hydraulic systems whispered alive and the hum of gears started winding the massive door to the docking bay shut. Carol focused on trying to find something to harness herself to. She had started tethering herself to a support beam next to a pair of Repair Pods, when a shadowy form darted across the corner of her vision.

     “Unidentified species at docking bay entrance corridor.”

     Carol spun her head to the hall she had just come down. Goddamn, it was fast. Twenty yards away, the alien tumbled into view. It spotted her, reared on its hind legs and a surge of bile-colored acid flew from its mouth, across the closing doors. The acid landed short, but only just, chewing up the steel grating where it splashed down. The door was only a third of the way lowered.

     Carol took in the creature begin to rush down the hallway. She calculated how fast the door was closing. Not enough time.

     She grunted through a clenched jaw, and started untying herself, the muscles of her back forming tight cables. Her wrist pounded, but somewhere through the fog of adrenaline, or perhaps because of it, her thoughts were replaced by a simple mantra: “Keep. Going. Keep. Going.”

     The doors were still two feet off the ground when the creature’s claws gained purchase on either side of the doorframe. It flung itself through just as Carol broke free of the support beam. She stumbled backwards, twisting her ankle, but stayed upright. She slung her pistol out of its holster and took aim. The shot rang true, catching the creature in the shoulder and knocking it off its center of balance. It darted back a few feet and coiled itself, as if to pounce.

     Carol dashed, the best she could, toward a Repair Pod, dragging her ankle behind her (!).  She managed into one and shut the hatch just as the alien lunged. The thick plexiglass proved too much for the creature’s initial slashing attacks. Its tail ricocheted off the Pod’s haul. It opened its jaw and a smaller jaw lashed out, snapping at the window. A reprieve? The alien vomited acid and the plexiglass began to smoke and bubble. It wouldn’t be long before she would be reuinted with Therese. She made a reach for the controls, but jumped back as gouts of acid now erupted through the Pod’s window.

     Carol raised the pistol to the side of her head. She cocked it.

     “Please...kill...me….” a whisper came from the back of the repair pod. Carol startled and turned. The plea came again. Carol limped to the equipment locked at the back of the Pod. She opened it to find what had become of Harge.

     Harge’s skin was greenish purple and ashen. A murky fluid dribbled from the corners of his nose and mouth. His hair was matted down with dried blood. The rest of him was obscured, cemented to the inside of the locker by a brown, translucent slime.

     Gasping, Carol said, “God, Harge, what did it do to you?”

     “Carol. Please. Kill me.”

     The sounds of splashing acid were growing louder from the front of the Repair Pod.

     “I can’t...I can’t help you with that.”

     Carol heard plexiglass spintering as something smashed into the Pod’s window.

     “Pleeeease.”  

     Carol acquiesced.

     A grimace crossed her face. She wasn’t a murderer. She wasn’t even an ugly person. But here she was, staring at Harge’s corpse, all because of that thing. Ears deafened, eyes burning, she made her way to the control for the repair pod, only sometimes getting out of the way of its talons or sprays of acid. Despite the pain, she fought through.

     The Repair Pod began rising into the air, the alien clinging to the hull of the vessel within a vessel. From within the Pod, Carol would not be able to make requests of Mother. But she didn’t need Mother for this final act.

     Accessing the manual control, Carol rocketed the Pod sideways towards the wall of the docking bay. The Pod’s exhaust burned a line of fire that hung in the air as a sharp chemical smell filled Carol’s nostrils. The alien was closer now. It unhinged its jaw and a probiscus second mouth sprung forward, tearing a chunk from Carol’s right shoulder. She screamed as she pushed the throttle.

     There was a crash.

     Then there was nothing.

9: Tis Better

     Carol awoke to the sensation of stinging down her right arm. She ripped away the rags of her smoldering sleeve. She made her way out of the crumpled hull of the Repair Pod and mangled wall of the Docking Bay. As she emerged from the twisted wreckage, she found herself in the ship’s kitchen. She turned around and gorged herself on the image of the crushed pieces of the alien corpse. It satisfied her for a moment, and then a deep sadness swallowed her. She whispered to noone, “A demon. Flung out of space.”

     A week later, Carol wasn’t looking forward to cryosleep. She was sure she’d have more nightmares. As she cooled into stasis, however, she found that her nightmares had been spent. At least for a few weeks, Carol felt whole.

10:  Epilogue : Choose your own adventure!

     As Carol slept, quite unbenounced to her a wormhole opened up in the fabric of time, space, and also in any textiles that happened to be floating through that general vicinity. All the following things happened, but the only one whose effects weren’t undone by the _Sabot_ exiting the influence of the wormhole, is the one you’ll read. Choose how this ends:

 

_Author’s Note on the Randomness of the Universe: For best results, roll a four-sided die._

 

1.       Saccharine Ending:

     As the _Sabot_ returned to central space on an automated course, a behemoth ship followed in cloak. Carol, still sleeping, had no idea of this. The ship’s occupants accessed the _Sabot_ ’s video records remotely. They were large creatures, three times the size of any human, and boasted long trunks out of the fronts of their faces. Years later, some would claim that this trunk appearance was just a space helmet-- I don’t know about that. The aliens shuddered at the horror they saw and cheered the resourcefulness of the one called “Carol.” They also pitied her and her crewmates. The gargantuan ship docked with the _Sabot_. Its occupants boarded, and made repairs. So, when Carol awoke early, still two weeks away from Earth, it was a doe eyed android that greeted her.

 

2.       Bittersweet Ending

     Carol had, day by day, again become acclimated to life on Earth. She visited Kansas, and thought of Abby, darling Abby, and the time they spent there as children then later, young women.

     Carol’s daughter was being taken care in Kansas. She was in a rehabilitation center. The girl had become addicted, in more ways than one, to a cocktail of uppers, opiates, and engine chemicals that the streets were calling, “Humunculus” for how it affected tactile sensation and spatial awareness.

     Her daughter was clean for a few months, but Carol couldn’t remember the exact day. Sh told herself it was because of the way that travel in deep space blurs time and memories on top of everything she’d been through. Later, when her daughter mentioned the date of her sobriety, Carol knew it was an act of social mercy. It was also a sign of growth. Carol promised herself she would remember the date while she stared into her daughter’s face and held a hand to her cheek. She was taking her baby home, today: it would be a fresh start for them both. That’s when a different set of eyes caught Carol’s attention.

     “That’s one of the physical therapists,” Carol’s daughter said, noticing Carol’s interest in the doe-eyed, young woman on the other side of the cafeteria. “They come in a couple times a week for the people that have been laid up in bed, detoxing so long their muscles went to shit.”

     The therapist began wheeling a patient towards the exit behind them. Carol withdrew her trembling hand from her daughter’s face and pressed it to her own. The android stopped as she reached them, and spoke.

     “Are you alright? Do you need me to call somebody?”

     “I’m fine,” Carol said. “How are you?”

     The android let out a slight laugh. “I’m okay.” The android looked at Carol. It wasn’t confrontation, but it was direct. Too direct to be anything she would have seen in Therese. This wasn’t Therese. Just one of ten-thousand robots that share her model number.. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

     “Yeah.”

     The android shrugged and stole a half-glance at Carol. As she walked away, she turned back to Carol and made as if she was going to say something, but stopped herself and continued on her way. There was more of Therese in her than Carol had first thought.

     “You OK, mom?”

     Carol looked out the door to see the android stealing a glance, then snapping her head back to the patient she was helping walk.

     “Yes. Yes, my love, I’m fine,” Carol leaned in and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Let’s go.”

 3.      Inane Ending

     Wade Wilson, known by the moniker “Deadpool,” shut his laptop, weeping. The latest _Alien_ / _Carol_ fanfiction had really tugged at his heart strings, and he just couldn’t get over how bad Rich had got it. He walked over to his nightlight, and turned it off. A second later, it turned back on. He wouldn’t let this happen. No. Not to Carol. Ten minutes later, and he was armed. Twenty minutes later, and he was standing face to face with Zantanna, master magician. He pointed out to her that they shouldn’t be talking due to copywrite claims and how, even if Sony and Warner Bros somehow agreed to a buddy flick, “something in the vein of _Midnight Run- I know you’re thinking I’d be DeNiro, but I really think I could pull off Grodin if somebody would JUST. GIVE. ME. A. CHANCE.”_ there’s still be the pesky Marvel/DC thing to contend with. Zantana kept cool, and managed to figure out what Deadpool was talking about. Over the next three days, they formed an elite crew, whose names I’m not going to share because you wouldn’t believe….but one did rhyme with Valbus Bumblemore. Deadpool named the group, “The Alien Hunters” and had hockey jerseys printed up that, unfortunately, read, “The Alieen Hunters.” They traveled through time, space, and the fourth wall. They went back and rescued the crew of the _Sabot,_ the crew of the _Sanatarius_ , and even those on colony M1715….or maybe not...my font went small, probably a message from the Merc with a Mouth himself that things went to pot there too….I don’t know...different story for a different day, I guess.

4.     Set Up for a Sequel Ending

     As Commanding Officer Carol Aird exited her sleep pod, she saw that she was nowhere near Earth. Leaving the _Sabot_ , she found herself in the middle of a huge jungle, though she couldn't identify any of the plants, and there were three suns in the sky. The crack of a branch came from a few yards in front of her.

     “He--hello?” Carol said.

     Something slammed into her chest, and it took her a few seconds to realize that she had been tackled and was now staring up at patchy sylvan canopy.

     “Shut up- it’s watching us!” said her attacker. Carol began to discern that it was a young woman, dressed in tactical gear issued to the elite, private space marines of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. “When I say move, you follow me, got it?” Carol swallowed hard, and gave a few syncopated nods. “Ok...MOVE!”

     The hand lifted from Carol’s mouth and her attacker darted into the jungle. Carol got to her feet, and ran after her, still dragging that ankle (!!). There was an electric screech,  and bolt of white plasma cut through the daylight and hit a branch a few feet above Carol’s left shoulder. Emotion drained from Carol as she entered a flow state, and she began to push herself harder, oblivious to her pain, trying to keep pace with the strange woman. Another blast sounded and landed nearer to Carol’s head, this time burying itself into a tree trunk, filling the air with the smell of ozone and campfire. Carol scrambled behind a tree and spotted the woman, pale with ear-length brown hair, beckoning her into a cave. Carol again took off. Another shreek and this time, Carol did not see it land. Carol felt the blast just a foot behind her. The shockwave sent her careening toward the woman, who caught Carol, then pulled her to a ledge. Looking down, Carol saw that the drop off into the subterranean river must be forty feet or more. She didn’t have time to calculate it, exactly, as she was pushed into the river by the woman.

     Carol was pulled toward the side of the river sometime later, though she couldn’t tell how long it had been. A wormy guy, also in Elite Space Marine garb had rescued her from the knee deep water when she had apparently been knocked unconscious sometime after the fall. A moment later, and she again drifted out.

     “Wake up,” a deep voice shook her back to life. “I’m gonna need ya to stay awake. Can you do that for me? Can you do me that kindness?” Carol nodded.

     “What is this?” Carol asked, shivering.

     “We don’t know, exactly. But they don’t come down here. That’s the important part. Too cold, maybee,” answered a different wormy guy, dressed the same as the other two. “I”m Dannie. Tommie fished you out, just then, and you met Genevieve topside. Once you get your senses back, you probably wanna thank them for saving your life.”

     Carol rose to her feet, still fighting the dizziness. “I asked you what’s going on here.”

     Tommie and Genevieve shook their heads, laughing. Dannie regarded them, then looked at Carol. “It’ll take some explaining, but I think the short answer is that there used to be seven of us and, well, we’re fucked.” Tommie and Genevieve began to belly laugh and Dannie joined in. Only Carol noticed the three red dots on Tommie’s cheek.

     “What’s that?” Carol asked, gesturing.

     The three Elite Space Marines halted their laughter and looked around to Tommie just a screech let out a bolt of energy tore through the air, bursting Tommie’s head into a red mist.  His body collapsed a good two seconds later.

     “Further! We gotta go further!” Genevieve said, jumping into the river. Carol looked to Dannie who was following her. Carol jumped in, after them.

     As the rapids began to pick up and carry them faster into the caves below the jungle, Carol starred up to where the shots came from. Before her eyes, on a distant stone ledge, a figure manifested from nothingness. It had some pieces of armor: gauntlets, grieves, a codpiece, shoulder pads, and a helmet. The rest of it was covered in what looked like fishnet material. Its skin was bright brown and shiny. The roar of the river rattled around in Carol’s head, but she swore she could just discern the thing make clicking noises, then say (with what sounded like Genevieve’s voice), “It’s watching us.” The creature disappeared from her sight.


End file.
